


Light the Holly, and kiss me harder

by Lady_Talla_Doe



Series: a Kiss at Midnight [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Drunk Sex, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Percival Graves sarcastic inner monologue, Percival Graves' Thirst, Percival's aurors all love him, but Abernathy loves him best, don't do this at home, everthyone is far too drunk, you are drunk Percival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:34:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9193616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe
Summary: Burning holly at the stroke of midnight is said to mark where the old year passes, and welcome the new year. Percival is finding the old year is clinging to him, even in the revelry of the aurors New Year's Eve party; dark thoughts he can't seem to shake.Until Newt Scamander shows up, with his blue eyes that Percival can't seem to keep, and all of his... ness... ness.Percival might be drunker then anticipated.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For commonquintessence , over on tumblr

* * *

* * *

 

The party was in full swing, alcohol flowing and laugher filling the air, warming it like the hundreds of floating candles that hovered about the room. Percival scanned the crowd from over the rim of his glass, raising it occasionally when he caught someone’s eye in a new year’s toast. 

The thrum of the music filled his blood, a low hum that made the corners of his mouth quirk and a warmth settle in his bones- a sort of contentment that had been lacking since his return from captivity. Not that he would admit it; he’d rather pull out his own teeth. But Percival was… _happy_. The tension that stiffened his form into a rigid line of harsh judgment had softened; shoulders slumping softly, fingers curled loosely around his glass, hair tousled from when one of his auror’s had slung their arm around him, drunken affection leaking from every pore and kissed him soundly on the mouth before ruffling his hair and wandering away singing a tawdry version of _the wizard’s knobby rod_. Tina had seen that particular display of affection, but the smaller auror was well into her cup by ten o’clock and had simply laughed at his open shock.

“They like you, Percy,” she had slurred, shaking his arm, her face flushed from drink and dancing. She’d leaned in close, and for a moment he’d feared repeat of Abernathy’s affectionate greeting- but Tina’s kiss was a peck to his cheek, and although she stumbled, falling against him from leaning up to his height, her face – so open right then- revealed nothing but amusement and affection. She’d patted him on the arm, then the top of the head, smoothing his hair down clumsily, and wandered off as abruptly as she’d appeared.

That had been an hour ago.

Now he was not quite tucked into the corner, a little flushed with drink himself, but not nearly as wasted as many of his employees- they would have sore heads in the morning- and the warmth of the room was starting to get to him. But he found he didn’t want to leave; the light, the motion- the twirl of the dancers mixed with the heady laughter and happy carelessness of it all. He couldn’t pull himself from it all. It was like the elixir to the woes he’d suffered at the hands of Grindelwald. The cure to the endless cold that had squatted, unwanted, in his bones. They were so _alive_ , so free and joyful, and Percival wanted to go join them – it was an insane impulse, because logically he knew if he did they would stop all the dancing, the drunken singing; all the sings that made this so wonderfully different from the tense silences and fragile treatment he’d been getting.

His eyes strayed to the clock; 11;35, _half an hour_ _until midnight_. The renewal of the new year could scrub away the dirt and grime of the old year, the bonfires burning with holly to mark its death might cleanse his soul.

He snorted into his glass, “I’m drunker then I thought,” Percival muttered out loud. Had to be, to think so longingly of the old ways.

Before he could get too caught back in the miasma of his dark thoughts, a body smacked full into him, hands catching on his vest. Percival stumbled, and his drink went flying out into the crowd- he regained his footing, hands going to the vest of the wizard clinging to him, to bodily pull the man up.

“-so sorry, didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry-” the wizard seemed to be repeating on loop, once he got him to his feet. They weren’t quite of a height, but it was close – no wonder he’d nearly knocked him over. Although he was a bit of a willow build, there was a lanky muscle to him, like one used to hard work. The back under his vest was firm, no flab on him.

Percival blinked, shaking his head to clear his wandering thoughts, and to stop the endless loop of apology. The wizard, thankfully, stopped apologizing, blinking up at him with surprisingly clear blue eyes.

Reluctantly, Percival stepped back, giving the man his space, and smiled as warmly as he could manage, offering a hand.

“Percival Graves. I don’t believe we’ve met?”

But the man didn’t take his hand. Instead, he gaped at him, eyes going wide, and a hot flush spreading over his face, “oh course! I should have recognised you, I’m so sorry, that’s terribly rude of me. Ah, Newt Scamander. I, ah. Helped Tina. Rescue you.” He stammered, the came to a halting stop, dropping his gaze.

Newt -where did he know that name?- seemed to notice his hand, and belated shook it. A firm hand, but strangely calloused and scarred for one as young as he looked.

“Oh. Oh, you don’t know, no one told you, of course not- never mind, it’s not important. It’s a pleasure to meet you Percival. Theseus has told me so much about you over the years. He really respects you, really admires your work.” Newt’s face lit up as he spoke, then he ducked his head again, dropping his gaze. Percival tried in vane to regain it, stepping closer in the thrum and the warmth of the party to tilt his head to the side – watching the flicker of his eyes as he spoke, the flutter of his warm amber lashes against his pale cheeks. But Newt didn’t look back up, gaze darting around as he spoke.

A dim thought grew brighter, and Percival stepped back in realization, looking at him in shock- later, he might think that if he weren’t drunk he wouldn’t be this slow-

“ _Scamander?_ ”

Newt’s eyes flew up, comically wide and so, so blue. He could probably drown in them, he thought absently ( _he was far too drunk_ , he decided, right then) The younger wizard nodded, hands coming up nervously to smooth down his vest lapels, and he glanced around again- and that was just _enough-_

Percival stepped into his space, hand cupping his face. Those darting eyes stayed so bright and wide, but right one his face. He had a dim thought that he was forgetting something ( _the party, the people, that this was his friend’s little brother?_ Whispered the back of his mind) Newt’s face fit well in his hand. He liked that.

“You saved me. Revealed Grindelwald. I- ” he tried to scrape his brain off the floor ( _out of your pants, you mean_ , growled the maliciously sober part of him. He shushed it)

This was a serious moment. A chance to thank him, to express all his gratitude – which had nothing to do with the drunken sparks of lust that Newt’s looks were slowly fanning into a decent sized fire- for doing something _no one else could._  That no one else _did._  Instead, what came out of his mouth was,

“I’m drunk. Merlin’s beard, I am so much drunker then I thought, but I’d like to kiss you.”

And punch himself. Well then, that’s one way that could have gone.

His hand was still on Newt’s face, and Newt’s hands were on his vest again- to pull him close, or push him away, he really couldn’t tell. This truly wasn’t fair, he would have liked to make a good first impression. At least everyone else was completely pissed, he’d be in good company tomorrow.

 

Newt opened his mouth, then closed it. Licked his lips. Percival’s gaze followed it with a truly predatory intensity ( he was going to need to apologize tomorrow. He was suppose to be the role model, dammit. Hitting on people while drunk, no better then his aurors!)

Newt flushed, fair skin going slowly rose, and he was enthralled. Enchanted. Completely under his spell, his liquor soaked mind completely at that blush’s command ( he would need to move, in the morning. Maybe to Africa?)

“I – Director, ah, Graves- Percival, I think you’ve had a too much to drink,”

“I have, Mr. Scamander. I will be thoroughly embarrassed with myself in the morning. I’m embarrassed with myself now,”

When had he put his hand on Newt’s waist? The wizard was leaning into it, but still holding Percival’s vest.

“You’re staring at my mouth,” his voice was barely loud enough to carry over the music.

“Very improper of me. I apologize.” His own voice sounded husky to his ears; he didn’t move his gaze.

Newt’s hands tightened on vest, inadvertently pulling him closer, and Percival let him. Slid his hand along his spin, felt the younger wizard shiver despite the heat. ( this was improper. He’d have to report himself)

“You’re still looking.” Newt’s voice was husky now, rough with the same want. The stain of embarrassment was still present, but clearly Percival was getting to him.

“ _I am, yes,”_

He tugged him closer, closing the distance with a jerk, and held Newt to his chest. Threading his hand through his hair, while Newt’s soft gasp was enough to encourage him. Their breathe intermingled, eyes unfocused by how close they were- he could feel the heart beat of the younger wizard, thrumming like the music, _alive alive alive_ , it sang, and Percival curled his arms around him and dipped him back as the bells began to ring.

 _Happy new year,_ sober Percival whispered to drunk Percival, who continued to kiss Newt Scamander in the middle of his coworkers.

He kissed him until well after the last bell rang out, and until the new year was ushered in, and forgot all about burning holly, and blessings, and forgiveness of crimes that weren’t his to be forgiven for.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

He also forgot that Newt Scamander was Theseus Scamander’s younger brother, so when he woke the next morning, curled around a warm form- their naked skin pressed up against his naked skin- Percival kept his eyes closed, nosing at the back of his neck, to snuffle his curls, before kissing down his shoulder. His skin smelled of salt and alcohol; Percival lathed a slow path down his shoulder to the freckled top, and scraped his teeth across it, chuckling as Newt shifted in his sleep, stirring against him. A warm hand slid along Percival’s leg, tightening across the top of his knee, and Newt leaned back into him, shifting into Percival like a cat enjoying a firm touch.

“We aren’t expected for another two hours,” Newt mumbled, catching Percival’s hand to kiss his palm.

 Percival chuckled, tugging Newt’s hips towards his, grinding slowly against him. “I can work with that.”

 

And he didn’t remember who’s brother he was until Theseus’s howler broke into the room forty minutes later.


End file.
